Frustration and anger churned inside Leo. Classes had ended, but the weight of failure pressed down like a stone on his chest. As always, he slipped out of the academy, seeking solace in his favorite grove beyond the campus—a quiet, shadowed place where he could breathe without the stares and whispers of his classmates.
The wind carried the scent of damp earth. His hands clenched the notebook he had carried all day, and he kicked loose stones along the path, muttering under his breath. Why am I so useless?
Then, without warning, a hand clamped over his mouth, cold and strong. Panic surged as he twisted violently, trying to break free.
"You… you!" Leo gasped, struggling.
A figure emerged from the shadows. Eyes wild, teeth gritted, the man circled him, muttering words Leo didn't understand. Strange symbols glowed faintly on the ground, pulsing with unnatural light.
"You have been chosen," the man hissed. "Your blood… will open the path!"
Pain seared through Leo's arm as a knife cut deep. Blood dripped, warm and metallic. He screamed, but the sound caught in his throat. The ritual intensified, chants scraping the air, symbols blazing brighter.
With every ounce of will, Leo shoved the madman and bolted into the darkness. Branches tore at his clothes, roots snagged his shoes, but he didn't stop. His lungs burned, heart hammering, legs screaming with exhaustion.
Deep in the forest, unseen forces stirred. Something ancient had sensed the blood spilled tonight. Something that had slumbered quietly within him—the dormant Asura lineage—was beginning to stir.
Leo had no idea what he had awakened, or how much danger awaited him.